Foxglove and Zinnias
by arn24601
Summary: This is a little story about the importance of planting seeds, even when you may not be there to see them grow. One-shot, slash Edward x Jasper , tissue warning


**A/N: **I am back from my hiatus and am reposting everything I took down previously. Thank you to everyone for being patient with me. A brief explanation is on my profile page.

**Warnings:** Slash (Edward x Jasper), short one shot. This is a sad one folks. Have the tissues ready.

**Disclaimer:** Anything Twilight related belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

"Edward, we have to have zinnias! I always remember walking to my grandmother's house during the summer. She let me help her go out to the garden and cut a handful of pink and orange flowers. She would clean out an old mason jar and fill it with water to use as a vase. I was so proud to take the flowers back to my mother. It's one of my favorite memories. I can't see zinnias without thinking about both of them." Jasper smiled and his eyes grew shiny. I squeezed his hand.

"That sounds wonderful, Jasper. What else should we add to the list?"

I surveyed the mess of catalogs and seed packets that had overtaken our dining room table. When we moved in to the old Victorian last summer, it was too late to plant very much. We were determined, even though it was still winter, to get an early start on planning for this year. Both Jasper and I had been so consumed with the interior that we hadn't given much attention to the outside. We soon learned that "quaint period detailing" was realtor-speak for "really outdated wallpaper and old ugly appliances."

Every second we spent working on that house, though, was a labor of love. It was _ours_. After nearly a year of Jasper practically living at my apartment and only going home for clean laundry, we finally realized that we were being completely obtuse. We found the perfect house for our perfect future together. It was truly the potential that drew us to the property, even though we knew it would need some work.

The rambling wrap-around porch was the ideal spot for lazy summer days sipping sweet tea. Jasper, unable to indulge his green thumb in the city, was in awe over the backyard garden. It had been neglected for years, but the bones were fabulous. There were enough bedrooms for both of our families to visit … or for kids one day, maybe. We whispered promises to each other every night as we fell asleep, making plans and building dreams.

I didn't think I could fall any deeper in love with my Jasper, but each and every day he proved me wrong. It was never any grand gestures or declarations. It was in the way he smiled at me as he drank his morning coffee. It was how he ridiculous he looked with paint splattered in his blond hair, even as he retaliated by slinging paint on me.

It was how he took my hand and calmed my nerves while I waited at the doctor's office, then held me as I cried. It was how he knew exactly when to comfort me and exactly when to leave me alone to blow off steam. It was how he stayed up late to talk with me when the pain got to be too much, even though he had to work early in the morning. It was how he promised that he would always be there for me, no matter what.

Jasper picked up a seed catalog and then flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. "This would be absolutely gorgeous! Foxgloves are absolutely breathtaking, especially in large groupings. It says they are biennial, so they probably wouldn't bloom the first go round."

"Next year, when we…" my smile faltered. There was a catch my breath as I swallowed. "Baby, they are going to be beautiful."

* * *

I curled on the green suede sofa and turned the lights off. I wrapped up like a cocoon in the ratty old quilt my grandmother had made, but I still shivered. I must have dozed off without knowing it. The next thing I felt was a soft touch on my forehead. I blearily wrenched open my eyes.

"Jasper." A grin tugged at the corner of my lips, even as my voice was rough and raspy. "Hey."

"Hey, beautiful," he said quietly, adjusting the quilt where it had slipped. "I got you some ginger ale. Would you like some?"

"Thanks." I tried to prop myself up on one elbow to take a drink, but fell back on the sofa. I growled in frustration, but then felt Jasper sit beside me. He helped me sit up and then I leaned back against his chest. The warmth felt incredible. He reached for the cup on the coffee table and helped me take a sip. It tasted like cardboard. Everything did now. Still, the gesture was so loving and characteristic of his thoughtfulness. We sat like that until bedtime.

I couldn't put it off any longer.

"Jasper, I need to tell you something. Today was my last treatment." I hated the hope that flared in his eyes, then myself in turn for extinguishing it.

"You mean…?"

"No, Jasper. Dr. Snow and I had a long discussion today. The results of my CT scan came back." I watched the light fade from his eyes, anguish clouding the sky blue orbs. "It's still spreading, regardless of everything the doctors are doing. All their efforts have accomplished is to slow the growth and buy some time. They could continue pumping poison through my body in an effort to kill it, but in the end it wouldn't make a difference. I don't want that kind of life! I just want to feel fucking normal for as long as I can."

"How long?" His voice was broken.

"A few months, more or less." I stared at the floor. I wasn't willing to see his pain, knowing that I had caused it.

Jasper took his hand and forced my head up. He lips brushed mine with exquisite tenderness, communicating emotion that neither of us could put into words at the moment.

* * *

It was so unfair.

I needed more time. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that even if I had a hundred years with Jasper it would never be enough. I had so hoped, though… even with everything that I would have enough time for _this._ We had continued planning and dreaming, designing the garden, even though our future had changed.

I stared out the window at the thick coating of frost on the grass. It was beautiful, sparking like diamonds in the early morning sunlight. I hated it.

It was still too early in the season to plant Jasper's garden. I could do the math in my head. I would never see him lovingly tending his heirloom roses or painstakingly weeding in that ridiculous hat he had insisted on buying. I wouldn't be there to help him cut his zinnias. I wouldn't see his foxglove bloom.

Jasper's side of the bed was cold. I went downstairs, but couldn't find him anywhere.

A moment later, he came in through the front door. His cheeks were flushed from the outdoor air.

"Baby, I've got a surprise for you. Do you feel like a little fieldtrip to the backyard?"

Puzzled, but willing to humor him, I found my shoes and coat. Jasper led me by the hand, telling me to close my eyes. He was so jubilant, lighter and freer than I had seen him for weeks. I cracked open my eyes to sneak a glance, but couldn't see anything but the old shed that had been there when we bought the place.

"Edward, I know you are cheating. Just go ahead and look."

I grinned sheepishly and obeyed his command. He rolled his eyes and continued around the back of the structure.

I was speechless.

Using one wall of the shed, Jasper had built a tall glass frame, as big as the shed itself. He led us inside, ducking around rows of tiny little cups. In several of the cups, bright green stems peeked out of the dark soil. It was a greenhouse.

"I was selfish," Jasper admitted after several minutes of silence. "I wanted to experience this with you so badly and I wasn't willing to risk waiting."

I couldn't speak for the tears that choked me. Just when I couldn't love him anymore…

We spent that entire day carefully measuring out the little seeds, making labels, and watering the new growths. Nearly every day after that, unless the weather was particularly bad, Jasper helped me out to the greenhouse. After everything was planted, there wasn't a lot to do other than watering, but it was so peaceful. I loved seeing the changes that occurred with each new day. Every new uncurling leaf and forming bud was a victory.

A few months later, I even had an old mason jar filled with pink and orange zinnias by my hospital bed.

* * *

Jasper tenderly laid the tall spires of bell-like blooms on the grass as he ran his fingers over the smooth marble. The profusion of color contrasted with the cold gray stone.

"You were right, Edward. They are beautiful."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading. Andrew, this one is for you, buddy.


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